Wild Like the Wind (Page 27)

“On my truck and bike, yeah. Otherwise, no.”

“I can see this,” she said to the taco meat.

He grinned at her profile then looked back to the TV.

“You deserve better.”

That comment bought her his eyes again.

“I dig why you live in this place and don’t want to bother moving, babe,” she went on. “But I hate that you come home to a pit. You deserve better.”

Christ, he loved her.

It would never have entered his mind in the years since he’d taken that fall that she could get more of that from him.

But having her like he did now, she totally did.

“What were your favorites, baby?” he asked quietly.

She didn’t hesitate to answer. “That black leather sectional. The barstools that the base is made out of a crankshaft. And that leather studded headboard.”

He remembered all those pictures.

Vaguely.

And from what he remembered, if she outfitted his crib like that, it was going to look like the Harley-Davidson furniture god puked all over the place.

But if she liked it, he didn’t give a shit.

“I give you the cash, you go get it. Let me know when it’s gonna be delivered. I’ll get Dutch and Chill over here and we’ll cart this shit to the dump.”

Her eyes were big. “Really?”

“Yup.”

“All of it?”

“Whatever you want, but make sure you get new mattresses too, Keekee. Mine suck. And think on that headboard, ’cause if I remember what you’re talkin’ about, I can’t tie you to it.”

Her face screwed up with fake irritation. “Don’t make me hot when I’m making tacos.”

“You know I’ll fuck you tough after you feed me so don’t bitch I make you wet before you do.”

She turned the stove down and came to look at him from over the bar. “You need end tables too.”

“Whatever,” he muttered, turning back to the TV.

“And new nightstands and a dresser and new lamps, like, everywhere.”

“I got stacks of cash in the safe in my room at the Compound. Tell me how much you need. I’ll have it here tomorrow night and give it to you.”

“I have carte blanche?”

He again looked to her. “You think I’ll like it, I’ll probably like it. More likely I won’t notice it unless it’s uncomfortable, goofy, girlie or preppy. I reckon you know to avoid any a’ that shit so, yeah. You got carte blanche.”

“I’m taking tomorrow off and going shopping,” she declared.

He grinned, turning his head back to the TV, repeating, “Whatever.”

“You wanna come with me?”

That slashed through him like a blade through his heart.

Slowly, he looked again to her.

“Babe,” he said quietly.

“Is that . . .” She weirdly had to take a moment to get her shit together. “Is that a ‘babe’ no way in hell I’m going shopping or a ‘babe’ you don’t want to be seen out in public with me? Because I’m pretty sure no Chaos brother is gonna be at furniture stores.”

“Their old ladies might.”

“So it’s you don’t wanna be seen out in public with me.”

Why was she asking this shit?

If it was up to him, he’d be out in public with her, she’d be on the back of his bike, he’d fuck her in his bed at the Compound, she’d be deep in his life every way he could get her.

But it wasn’t up to him. It wasn’t something she could give him the way he was guessing she knew he wanted it, so it wasn’t something he could have and she knew that shit, so why the fuck was she going there and dragging him with her?

He turned in the couch to face her, trying not to get pissed. “Keekee—”

“It’s not like we don’t know each other, Shep.”

This was true.

“If on the extreme off chance we run into someone remotely associated with Chaos,” she continued, “we can say you needed new mattresses or whatever and since you don’t give a shit about that, asked me to help out or just were there to hand off the cash. But since it’s not gonna happen, who gives a shit?”

“Honest as fuck, babe, it’s mostly because I don’t wanna go furniture shopping so you getting wound up about this is pointless.”

She looked to the wall.

He needed to guide them out of this, for both of them.

“Is the food ready?” he asked.

She looked back to him.

“Yeah,” she snapped.

“Are you gonna be pissed while we eat it even though I’m gonna hand over thousands of dollars in cash to you tomorrow that you can spend decorating my ratty-ass apartment for me?”

She tried to hold on to the pissed but couldn’t do it.

Still, she verbally stuck to it, but without the sting, and bit out a, “Yeah.”

He got up and moved toward the kitchen, “Then tonight’s a spanking night, baby. You got a sting in your ass and my cock up your cunt, no way you can stay pissed.”

“I told you, Hound, don’t turn me on when you’re not imminently gonna do something about it, and I’ll add, don’t turn me on when I’m mad at you.”

He caught her at the waist and dragged her up against him, clamping his other arm around her, and taking her mouth in a wet kiss.

He lifted his head and stared in her eyes.

“Still pissed?” he asked.

“No,” she answered.

“Good. But you’re still getting a spanking,” he told her.

At that, she smiled.

With his body hidden, Hound leaned against the corner of the building and watched Camilla Turnbull come out of another building down and across the street.

She was covered in Valenzuela soldiers, four right on her, one at the car they were escorting her to, one down the street keeping an eye on things, and then there was the driver.

Camilla Turnbull was Valenzuela’s snatch.

She also ran his girls and her name was listed as executive producer on all his porn video credits.

Her man had disappeared but Hound was finding she was everywhere.

He was also getting a funny feeling about that. About two of Valenzuela’s boys fucking up and taking Millie, one of them clocking her, then both of them getting dead. The hits his soldiers took, Millie had witnessed. But by the time the cops got to anyone to ask for statements, a man not the man who did it came forward to confess to the killings and no witness had seen Valenzuela anywhere near the scene.

Not to mention Turnbull gave him an alibi.

But that colossal fuckup happened, Valenzuela was now gone, she’d stepped up and this surprised Hound.

She had her place in Valenzuela’s operation and that place had always been firm. Valenzuela made it very clear how he felt about gash. He fucked it and he used it to keep his girls in line and his production facilities cranking out bad sex tapes.

Now she was coming out of Valenzuela’s swank apartment complex with a shit ton of bodyguards looking like she not only owned a pad there but the entire building and every one on the block.

Topping that, the woman was young. Hound didn’t know how young but he’d put money she wasn’t even out of her twenties.

Too young to be doing all she was doing—not that anyone should ever be doing anything she was doing—and way too young to be heading an operation the size of Valenzuela’s.

It could be Valenzuela was laying low knowing Chaos would lose their shit after Millie was taken. He was hoping in that time they’d cool off (they would not) and he was concerned they’d seek retribution using his woman to do it (they would not do that either, or Chaos wouldn’t, Hound would consider it), so he put extra men on her in the meantime.